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She is right, and all we've got to hope for now is that the Earl will be right too," said his wife somewhat anxiously. "He's just got to see our girl and then he will be, unless he's a natural born idiot, which, of course, he couldn't be," replied Brenda's father in a tone of absolute conviction. "Now, I wonder what that man Marmion's going to let loose on us to-morrow night?"
The Fates which, in some dimly-perceived fashion, seem to shape our little successive phases of existence, were certainly in a kindly mood that "lovely night in June." The two Professors had retired to Franklin Marmion's sanctum for the discussion of whisky and soda and the possibilities of physical manifestations of the Occult.
At the next moment, fleet as the wind, Marmion's steed riderless flew by, the housings and saddle dyed crimson. Eustace mounted and plunged into the fight, resolved to rescue the body of his fallen lord. Alone, in that dreadful hour, a courage not her own armed the gentle girl with strength to play a noble part.
Charlotte, who has the best voice, was brought out to sing, but was placed a little behind, as her person is not quite perfect; Maria, who is the most picturesque figure, was put to attitudinize at the harp, arrayed in the costume, and assuming the fascinating graces of Marmion's Lady Heron: Fair was her rounded arm, as o'er The strings her fingers flow.
"Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, And shook his very frame for ire, And 'this to me! he said." At this moment the Assistant Spikeman entered the room. His advance had been so noiseless that it was unobserved by either the girl or the Indian, so entirely were they engrossed by the adventure of the portrait. "Whom have we here?" he exclaimed.
Little remains to be told. Fitz-Eustace, faithful to the last, bore "To Litchfield's lofty pile," what he believed to be the pierced and mangled body of his once proud master. Here was reared a Gothic tomb; carved tablets were set in fretted niche; around were hung his arms and armor, and the walls were blazoned with his deeds of valor; but Lord Marmion's body lay not there.
He foolishly imagined that Scott valued the plume and dagger of Marmion for Marmion's sake. Not being himself romantic, he could not understand that Scott valued the plume because it was a plume, and the dagger because it was a dagger. Like a child, he loved weapons with a manual materialistic love, as one loves the softness of fur or the coolness of marble.
Sir Barnaby Whig, or no Wit like a Woman's; a Comedy acted at the Theatre-Royal 1681. Dedicated to the right honourable George Earl of Berkley. The plot of this play is taken from a Play of Marmion's, called the Fine Companion; and part from the Double Cuckold, a Novel, written by M. St. Evremond. Scene London. The Royalist, a Comedy; acted at the Duke's Theatre 1682.
They can push in here if they want to, but they'll have to learn Marmion's lesson 'The hand of Douglas is his own!" She swept her pretty pink palm outward with a tragic gesture, as she ran lightly up the stairs, and the girls, laughing as they flocked after her, scattered to their rooms for their afternoon siesta.
But Perry buttons his Prince Albert, waves his brown derby under the very vizor of the departing guest, rests easily on his right leg, bends the left knee slightly, folds his arms and speaks. "Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire." Little wonder! If Perry Thomas spoke to me like that I'd cleave his head. But Marmion spares proud Angus. He beards the Doogulus in his hall.
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